I’ve never had much of an extended family, and the holidays are always a painful reminder of that. Sure, growing up we had a set of grandparents on both sides back east. And each year we would make the trip in to see them. While I absolutely loved these journeys through the snow-covered mountains of Pennsylvania, I think I secretly longed for a bit more of a family connection. Our primary familial tradition became travel, as opposed to other ‘standard’ holiday routines involving baking or present exchanges or whatnot.

However, now that I’m an inhabitant of MarriedLand, I’m starting to inherit another family’s traditions and customs besides the handful of scarce few that I have already. Included in this is the wife’s family trip to the Enchanted Forest out past Whoville to cut down the largest trees you can find, drag them back to civilization, and drive all the way home again without them flying down the road behind you. (which sadly happened. twice.)

Last Saturday, in freezing weather, we headed out. Thirteen in tow, bundled to bejeebus (except me?) and clutching saws and marking ribbons. We brought home eight trees in all, but the day was more than the purchase. As I sat at the brother-in-laws parents’ house watching more basketball than I cared to, I couldn’t help but be lost in the strangeness of it all. All of a sudden, after 25 years of doing most holiday events with little fanfare…here I was spending an entire Saturday just getting the tree. And I won’t lie: It kinda bugged me.

So as the coming weeks get more hectic, as the social calendar fills and the list of obligations gets longer, I vow to keep my calm. No, in fact I promise to work harder than that. After all, I wished for so long for Santa to bring me a larger extended family, and now I finally have it.

I hope that I left the Grinch behind in the forest last weekend. I really could stand to embrace some holiday cheer.